


Hold You In My Arms

by sainnis



Series: Sheith Medschool AU [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Appendicitis, Bathing/Washing, Boys In Love, Caretaking, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Heartbeats, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical School, Pet Names, Surgery, Team as Family, friendship dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25081846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sainnis/pseuds/sainnis
Summary: Residency's draining, but Keith and Shiro are committed to the work and to each other. Despite the exhaustion Keith’s never been happier, until an unexpected phone call during a night float threatens to shake the foundation of all he holds dear.Medschool!AUSet at the beginning of residency, several years after "You're My Medicine", "You Feel Like Home", and "Steady As We Go", but all you need to know is that Keith and Shiro are doctors in training and got together in medschool.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Sheith Medschool AU [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1687237
Comments: 58
Kudos: 206





	Hold You In My Arms

**Author's Note:**

> I loved doing the research for this fic, but as someone who doesn't practice medicine, I can't vouch for its scientific accuracy (i.e. this fic does not provide medical advice; please consult a non-fictional doctor). YMMV, but I tried to stay on the non-graphic side of surgery. While I know hospitals rarely have observation galleries (thanks, Grey's), you'll have to forgive me for indulging myself on that one. 
> 
> Also, Coran's last name is Smythe. Who knew?
> 
> Thanks to @goldentruth813 for the cheerleading and encouragement!

Keith growls as he taps his watch alarm off. The bed is big, too big, without Shiro. He drags a hand through his hair. It’s tacky, in need of a wash. At least he was able to string together a decent number of hours of sleep. If he can get some coffee into his system, he might actually be a functional human and maybe not even embarrass himself in front of the attending tonight. 

He showers and then digs through the laundry, pulling out a wrinkly Garrison U Med School t-shirt and tugs it over his head. They both splurged on some nicer scrub bottoms a few months back, and Keith prefers to wear them on his night floats just because they’re softer and have more pockets. He likes when Shiro wears them, too, because they’re extremely flattering over his thighs and ass. Shiro looks good in everything. He also looks good in nothing. It’s the duality of Shiro.

Unfortunately, he won’t be seeing much of Shiro’s thighs or ass this week because their schedule is flipped. Keith finds two socks that are vaguely the same color and checks the time. He still needs something to eat. He’s digging through the closet to find his favorite sneakers, the dark maroon ones that camouflage stains, when he hears the door open. It’s Pavlovian, really. Four years into their relationship, every time he hears the key in the lock, he gets a little surge of happiness. His heart picks up a few beats. “I’m in here! You hungry?”

There’s no answer, only the sound of a bag hitting the floor followed by the thud of feet over the area rug in the living room. Shiro appears in the doorway to their bedroom, holding on to the frame with one hand and his stomach with the other. “Not hungry.”

Keith forgets the sneakers and crosses to the door, tugging Shiro into an embrace. He’s not in scrubs; he’s wearing faded gray joggers and a Star Wars hoodie. Shiro’s arms loop around Keith’s waist as he buries his face in Keith’s neck. “Long day?” 

Shiro sighs, and it nearly becomes a whine. “So long.” He wavers a little on his feet and Keith steadies him. “Missed you.”

“You’re exhausted. C’mere.” Keith takes Shiro’s arm, gently leading him towards the bed. Shiro sinks down on the edge of the mattress, a long exhale escaping as Keith slides his fingers through Shiro’s starlight hair. “I missed you, too.” He kisses the top of Shiro’s head and then his temple. “You feel a little warm. You okay?”

Shiro rests his cheek against Keith’s abdomen, his voice muffled against Keith’s t-shirt. “I ran up the steps. Wanted to see you.” He grabs Keith’s wrist, tilting it to see the time. “How long do we have?”

Sometimes they’re able to squeeze in a quickie in between when they’re on opposite shifts. A nice mutual handjob, a little thigh riding, maybe even a quick fuck if they have the time. Last month Keith had gotten home to find Shiro wearing a plug and a pair of black bikini briefs and Keith nearly fainted on the spot.

They’ve learned to read each other pretty well. Tonight, though, will not be one of those desperate, hot nights. Sometimes a shift turns you inside out, leaves you hopeless, helpless. Other times, you’re just soul-deep exhausted to the point where you can’t even cry because you don’t have the strength. Keith couldn’t imagine being with someone who didn’t understand the intensity of intern year, someone who could ride the highs and the lows with him. He knew what they had was rare--he saw the breakups and the drama among his peers--and he would fight like hell to protect what they’ve built.

“We’ve got about forty-five minutes.” Keith’s hands run down Shiro’s back. His muscles are tense and he’s holding his breath, which he sometimes does when he’s overwhelmed. “You’re okay. Just breathe.” Shiro does, his ribcage moving under Keith’s fingers. “What do you need?”

“Can you just,” Shiro tips up his chin, meeting Keith’s eyes. He’s gotten better at asking for what he wants. “Hold me? For a little bit?”

“Sure, baby.” He tugs on Shiro’s hoodie. “You comfy enough or do you want pajamas?” 

Shiro shakes his head. “These are fine.” He butts his forehead against Keith’s abdomen. “Sit on the bed with me?”

Keith leans down and pulls off Shiro’s sneakers before crawling up on the bed and leaning back against the headboard. They haven’t upgraded much in their new apartment, but the mattress is nice. It’s perfect for Shiro’s six-four frame and supports his back while also dissipating some of the heat Keith throws off. Shiro follows him, his movements sluggish as he collapses next to Keith, pillowing his cheek on Keith’s thigh. “You’re really done in, you poor thing,” Keith says, combing his fingers through Shiro’s hair. 

Shiro groans. “It was a bad day.”

“You want to talk about it?”

It takes Shiro a while to speak. “Mrs. Liel didn’t make it.”

“Oh, no.” Keith’s other hand sweeps along Shiro’s shoulder, gently squeezing. “Were you with her?”

“I wasn’t supposed to be, I just ran back to her room because I left my tablet there by accident.” Shiro curls a little more tightly on his side. “They tried everything they could. It was probably a stroke.” He sniffs a little and Keith can barely breathe with how his chest squeezes. Shiro’s been on a geriatrics rotation and they both know it’s not a good fit for him. He’s got the empathy and all his patients love him, but it just hits too close to home after losing his grandparents. “I was with her, though.”

“She loved you,” Keith soothes, pulling up a blanket over Shiro’s legs. “I know that having you there meant something to her. But it’s really hard to lose them like that.”

“I just hate feeling so helpless.” Shiro rubs at his face with the cuff of his sweatshirt. “And I get it. They didn’t think she’d leave the hospital this time. It just fucking sucks.”

“It does fucking suck.” Keith lifts Shiro’s hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “And I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” Shiro nuzzles his cheek against Keith’s thigh. “I got sick after.”

“You did?” Shiro was usually the one in their group who could deal with the nastiest wounds, the foulest scenarios the human body could dish out, and not even blink. “That’s not like you.”

“I think I was just emotional, you know?” He sighs. “I haven’t had an appetite all day.”

“It’s understandable,” Keith says. He touches the back of his hand to Shiro’s forehead. “You’re still a bit warm. You know, there is that stomach bug going around. You think you might have picked it up?”

“God, I hope not.” Shiro groans. “I need to study.”

“You need to _sleep_.”

“That too.”

Keith massages Shiro’s scalp, fingertips gentle. He can smell the light sandalwood fragrance of Shiro’s shampoo; he must have showered before he left the hospital. He leaves his other arm around Shiro, slipping his palm up to press over Shiro’s heart. Sometimes it helps calm Shiro down, especially at night if Shiro’s had a nightmare and he startles awake. Shiro says it makes him feel safe, which in turn makes Keith feel so tender he can hardly function. The beat is harder to feel through the fabric of Shiro’s hoodie, but if he concentrates, the faint pulse is there, thrumming under Keith’s hand. It’s not as slow as it often is when they’re curled together relaxing, but after what Shiro’s been through, it’s no surprise. 

“I didn’t kiss you,” Shiro says, voice tight. He grabs Keith’s hand, kisses the back of it, and then puts it back against his chest. “I’m so tired I forgot.” 

“You can make it up to me.” Keith lets the pad of his thumb drag against Shiro’s undercut. “What can I do to help? You want something to drink?”

Shiro pulls a face. “No. Not right now.”

“You gotta hydrate.” It's hard to find time to drink during their long shifts. 

“I went to med school, too,” Shiro mumbles, resettling in Keith’s lap. “I’ll drink later.” He makes a soft sound. “Talk to me about ice hockey.”

Keith laughs. “You don’t like ice hockey.”

“But you do and your voice soothes me.” Shiro’s curled on his side, one hand rubbing Keith’s knee. “So tell me about hockey.”

“Okay.” He launches into a story about his favorite game from sophomore year, making sure to keep his tone light and soft. When they’re studying for tests, sometimes they read their textbooks out loud to each other like this, but clearly Shiro’s not in the mood to hear about medicine tonight. Before too long, Shiro’s hand goes slack and his breathing slows. Good, Keith thinks. He needs the rest. 

The light beside the bed is on, illuminating Shiro’s sleeping face. There’s a touch of dark shadows under his closed eyes, but his mouth is soft, peaceful. In the hollow of his throat, Keith sees the flicker of his pulse. He loves to touch there, feel the bounding life beneath his fingertips, but he doesn’t, afraid he might wake him. Shiro is so beautiful that there are times Keith can’t believe he’s real. The solid weight of him is a marvel, the way his muscles move, the gentle curve of his hips and thighs, the delicate silver lines of his prosthetic, the cut of his cheekbones, the way his smile makes Keith’s stomach flip. Yet even more impressive is how he loves, a heart so open and deep that it could hold the universe itself. 

Leaving him, even for a 16 hour shift, is never easy.

Keith extricates himself slowly, so carefully, from underneath Shiro’s head, sliding away on silent sock feet. He puts a tall glass of water by the bed, along with a small container of saltine crackers, and writes a note. His handwriting is getting worse.

_Drink. Eat if you can. Text me if you need me. I’ll bring you home your favorite soup.  
Love you <3_

He presses a kiss to Shiro’s temple, murmuring a soft farewell. Shiro still feels warm, but Keith chalks it up to his hoodie and joggers; he usually sleeps in lighter clothes. Keith tugs the blanket down a little so it’s not covering him completely and makes sure Shiro’s phone is charging before he slips from the room. 

++

Breakfast is store-bought cold brew and two protein bars. Keith’s learned not to go to the hospital with nothing in his system; he only got lightheaded once during rounds but the scolding he got from the chief resident was enough to shame him into never doing that again. Pidge is waiting for him in the lobby of their building and he pulls out an extra bar for her, which she immediately devours. He likes being on shifts with her. She’s funny and focused, keeping Keith on his toes even in the middle of the night. It annoys him how quickly she can do math for meds in her head, but that’s what skipping three years of grade school will get you, he supposes. 

They stow their things in the intern lockers on the basement floor, which always smells like stale air and the sharp sting of cleanser. Shiro’s locker is next to Keith’s, and taped to the front there’s a Polaroid that Lance took of the two of them in scrubs mugging for the camera while Keith presses a kiss to Shiro’s cheek. It’s a little blurry, but it always makes him smile. 

For a moment he thinks about the password-protected folder of pictures on his phone, the ones they’ve taken in private, but just the thought of the ones of Shiro wearing a stethoscope and nothing else make Keith’s mouth go dry. He needs to not think about that. It’s almost 8pm and night float’s about to start and sick people need him. Pidge taps his arm with her tablet. “Let’s go, loverboy.” 

Keith tilts his head at the picture on the locker. “He’s just really beautiful, you know?”

She groans, but she’s smiling. “Yeah, yeah. You’re so in love.” She grabs his wrist, dragging him from the locker room. “Come on. Let’s go.” 

The shift drags, but for good reasons. Sometimes it’s just code after code and before long Keith’s shoulders and arms burn from giving CPR. He’s still not used to feeling ribs crack under his hands or hearing phrases like “time of death” delivered in the same tone as “ketchup or mustard”. Tonight, though, people are living. He knows better than to talk about it. It’s like saying Macbeth; you never say it’s a quiet night or a slow float. He’s not stupid. 

There’s still scut to do and he and Pidge divide and conquer. The hospital’s cut back on the number of hours the interns are expected to deal with the EMR system, which has been incredible, but it also means the expectations are higher for them with patient care. So far, Keith’s interaction has been mostly checking vitals, following up on test results, and waking up his resident to check on a patient whose respiration rate seems to be tanking. His resident is pissed at the disturbance, but Keith’s instincts aren’t wrong. It feels good to be right about something. Most of the time he feels like he’s barely keeping his head above water. 

He’s waiting for the pulmonary consult to arrive and keeping an eye on his patient’s sats when Pidge joins him in the hall. She’s got a new scrub top on and a grim expression on her face and the moment she says “impacted bowel”, Keith hands her a secret mini pack of M&Ms from his pocket. They’ve all been there. 

He’s in the middle of talking through what happened with his pulmonary case when Pidge’s phone goes off, buzzing in her pocket. She pulls it out, frowning, mouth full of M&Ms. “What?” she answers.

Keith cranes his neck to look down the hall. Consults always take forever in the middle of the night. Pidge makes a noise in her throat and she tugs on Keith’s sleeve. “Keith, you gotta take this.”

Maybe it’s Matt. Now that he’s R3 he barely has time for them anymore but he could be on shift tonight. Sometimes he’ll text if he has a cool case and needs an intern, though he almost always asks Pidge unless she’s annoyed him somehow. “Hello?”

“Keith. Listen.”

It’s Lance. Keith frowns. “Are you holding up my pulm consult down there? I’ve been waiting for almost an hour and--”

“Keith.” Lance’s voice is devoid of its usual humor. “It’s Shiro.”

“Oh, man, did he call about the soup?” Keith pats his scrub pants. Shit. His phone is back at the nurses’ station. “Sorry, I forgot my phone, it’s--”

“Listen to me. Shiro’s on his way here.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense. His shift was over at--”

“He’s with Hunk. He’s coming in by ambulance. I think you should get down here right now.”

Keith’s breath stops. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Shiro,” he finally manages and shoves the phone back at Pidge before he breaks into a run. His sneakers squeak against the tile as he races to the nurse’s station. “Has anyone seen my phone?” The panic in his own voice startles him. He upends a stack of tablets, finally finding it underneath.

One of the nurses, Carmen, has known Keith since med school and he did observations at the hospital. She’s saved Keith’s ass at least twice in the past month. “Kogane, you all right?”

He stares at her for a second. It feels like his stomach has bottomed out. “Ms. Kubo. Room 113. I--” He can barely think. He needs to get downstairs. Right now. 

A hand grabs his shoulder. It’s Pidge, five foot one and ready for anything. “I got her. Lance told me. Go.”

Keith thinks it’s a special kind of torture, but Shiro likes to get up in the morning and run a few miles around the neighborhood and then come back and make coffee, as if it’s acceptable to do anything after getting out of bed _except_ for drinking coffee. Every once in a while if the stars align, Keith will go with him and be reminded of what exactly he hates about running. It’s partly the sweat, partly the gasping for breath, and partly the way his body wants ice skates and not sneakers. He wants the hiss of blades under him, the scrape of ice, and steam rising from his mouth, not the hellhole of endless macadam while dodging cars.

But Keith’s running now. He doesn’t even try for the elevator, racing to the end of the hall and flinging open the door to the stairwell. He’s seven floors up and the sound of his feet hitting the stairs reverberate in the closed space. Red lights from exit signs blur in his vision as he swings around, heart pounding, going as fast as he can. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. On the last landing, he leaps the final four steps, slamming onto the ground before he scrabbles at the door handle and bursts onto the first floor. 

The emergency department, even at 3:15am, is always some level of busy. There are times it dies down to a low hum, but it never stops, never sleeps. Keith finally has the presence of mind to look at his phone. The lock screen says 5 missed calls. 10 missed texts. His hand shakes as he flicks over the screen and the last four fill up his vision.

 _idk if this is a bug_  
_not sure if i’m being paranoid but the pain’s kinda bad_  
_when you get a sec can you call?_  
_i need you_

He tastes bile in the back of his throat but he swallows it back. Lance. He needs to find Lance. He’ll know where Shiro is. The ED is a maze of exam areas and procedure rooms, but Keith heads towards the bay doors and the intake desk. Maybe he got down fast enough to beat Shiro to the hospital. 

“Keith!” He’s never been so happy to hear Lance’s voice in all the years he’s known him. Lance, dressed in dark blue scrubs per usual, is at the end of the hallway, gesturing to him. 

Keith starts to run but one of the doctors chides him on the way and he drops to a jog, narrowly avoiding a collision with a gurney. “Where is he?” Keith pants. “What’s wrong with him?"

Lance’s hand is a point of warmth on his shoulder, steadying him. “They just brought him in. Hunk rode over with him in the ambulance. Take a breath, okay? You look like you’re going to faint.”

“I’m not gonna faint.” Keith’s heart is beating too fast. “Which room is he in?”

“I’ll take you there. Come on.” He follows Lance through the corridors, finally stopping in front of one of the private exam rooms. “Allura’s doing a history but they’ve already called Iverson. He’s on his way. Listen, Shiro’s vitals are kind of shitty and--”

Keith can’t wait another second. He steps into the room and from behind a curtain, he hears a sharp cry of pain. It rips into him, making Keith flinch. He pushes aside the fabric and in the middle of the room, Shiro’s on his back on the bed, his prosthetic pressed against his abdomen. His Star Wars sweatshirt is cut up the middle and EKG wires snake across his chest. He’s pale and sweating, his eyes screwed shut as one of the nurses tries to put in an IV in. 

“Shiro,” he says, and everyone in the room swivels to look at Keith. Only one of them matters.

“Keith.” Shiro’s voice is soft, broken. Keith flies to his right side, giving the medical team room to work. 

“I’m sorry,” Keith blurts, and he repeats it twice, like a prayer. “I left my phone. I missed your call. I--”

“Keith” Shiro says, words gritting out between his clenched teeth. He flexes his prosthetic hand and Keith takes it, gripping it tight. “It hurts.” His breath comes out as a sob. “Really hurts.”

“I’m here, I’m here,” Keith says softly, pressing the back of Shiro’s hand to his own chest. He glances at Hunk, who’s standing off to the side of the room, looking shaky. “What happened?”

Hunk’s a big guy, but right now, he looks diminished, slumped against the counter. “I couldn’t carry him. Had to call for help.” 

Hunk goes quiet and Keith hears the nurse swear under her breath, muttering to Allura while she hooks up the IV in his hand. “He’s so dehydrated I barely could get this line started.” 

Shiro lets out another sharp moan and Keith fixes his eyes on Allura. “He needs pain meds. Now.”

“Just a minute.” Allura’s presence is pure calm. “Shiro, how long ago did the pain start?”

Shiro struggles to answer. His muscles are rigid as he tries to curl a little on his side. “Yesterday?” His voice is low, tight. “It’s gotten worse, though.”

Keith’s chest constricts. Shiro didn’t mention any pain. But then, he rarely does. His tolerance is higher than most people’s. He only gets a little medication when they do maintenance on his arm and it’s just because Keith insists. The doctor told Keith the first time he accompanied Shiro to the appointment that usually most patients need to be put under for those procedures, but Shiro refuses.

Allura keeps asking him questions and Keith tries to listen to Shiro’s answers, but he can’t focus. He’s not the intern now; he’s the family that they try to shunt out of the way. Usually he’s capable in the face of trauma or injury, but watching the love of his life writhe with pain on a gurney has him in fight or flight mode. All he wants to do is scream for someone to help. Someone who isn’t him, because Shiro deserves someone whose brain can still actually function. All Keith can do is stare at Shiro’s jagged beats on the EKG monitor and try not to cry.

The moment Dr. Iverson steps into the room, the air changes. “McClain. We have enough interns in here. Dr. Sanda needs you in three.” Lance gives Shiro an apologetic look before he slips from the room. Iverson looks over Allura’s tablet while she gives him a rundown. “Epigastric and periumbilical pain followed by nausea and vomiting. Temp 103. He’s hypotensive and tachy.”

“Shirogane,” Ivernson says. “Looking a bit rough there, kid.” Shiro tries to open his mouth to speak, but he blanches and Keith knows he’s about to puke. In a swift motion, he grabs an emesis basin and gets it under Shiro’s chin right before he vomits. 

“It’s okay,” Keith says, wiping at Shiro's mouth and helping him settle back against the pillows as Iverson starts listening to Shiro’s chest. 

“You order labs?” Iverson asks Allura.

“Yes. Rushed them.”

“Good.” Iverson’s gloved hands press on Shiro’s abdomen, and Shiro’s cry is sharp. “Sorry, Shirogane. Pain at the right lower quadrant and rebound tenderness at the McBurney point. What do we suspect based on those findings?”

Fuck. Shiro had a low-grade fever. He hadn’t eaten all day. He’d been sick, throwing up. All of that was consistent with a stomach bug, but Keith could have pushed for more information. Should have pushed. “Appendicitis,” Keith says, his gaze on the floor. 

Dr. Iverson’s mouth is a thin line in his grizzled face as he turns towards Allura. “I don’t like the look of him. Fever’s high. Pain since yesterday. We’ll get the white count back but I want surgery down here. Page Smythe right away.” He looks over Shiro’s chart again. “Start him on 5 morphine and ceftriaxone.” 

Allura’s voice is soft as she injects the medications into Shiro’s IV, but Keith catches it. “Do you want a CT?”

Iverson shakes his head, leaning on Shiro’s bedrail. “Symthe’s going to agree with me that you need that appendix out immediately. Just hang tight, Shirogane. We’ll be right back.” He beckons to Allura and she follows him out. 

Hunk inches closer, looking a bit less peaked. “You’re going to be okay, buddy,” he says, squeezing Shiro’s shoulder. “I’m really glad you called me or things could have gotten scary. Not that they weren’t scary. Because they were. But you know, more.” 

Shiro’s expression is a little more relaxed now that the pain meds are flowing. “Hunk. You’re a friend. A friendly friend. Thank you,” he says, taking a long pause. “For the ambulance.”

“You’re welcome.” Hunk gives Keith a tired smile. “You, uh, need anything? I’m gonna grab a coffee.”

“You should go home,” Keith says, letting go of Shiro’s arm long enough to hug Hunk, wrapping his arms around his broad chest. “Thank you. Thank you for being there for him.”

“Of course. We gotta take care of each other, you know?” Hunk thumps Keith on the back before releasing him and heading to the door. “I’ll give you two a little privacy.”

Keith slumps onto the rolling stool next to Shiro’s bed, reaching through the bedrails to twine his fingers with Shiro’s prosthetic. The monitor displays a slightly calmer heart rate, which gives Keith a little relief, but Iverson’s right. Shiro _looks _bad. Keith squeezes his hand, leaning in a little closer. “How’s the pain?”__

__Shiro turns to look at Keith. “I’m thirsty.”_ _

__“Baby, I’m sorry.” Keith reaches out with his free hand to brush Shiro’s hair back from his forehead. “They’re going to operate. You can’t have anything to drink right now.”_ _

__He grimaces, leaning into Keith’s touch. “I don’t want them to cut me open.”_ _

__“I know. But Dr. Symthe is the best. He’ll take good care of you. And you won’t feel anything. When you wake up, the pain will be much less and I’ll be there, okay?” Keith hears his own voice shake and he swallows. Get your shit together, Kogane. Shiro doesn’t need you to break down right now._ _

__“Keith,” Shiro says, gripping his hand tightly. His words are an exhale. “Still hurts.”_ _

__Keith leans over the bedrail to press a kiss against Shiro’s temple, feeling the fever burning through his skin. He would do anything to make the pain stop, to soothe the fear in Shiro’s voice. “Anytime it hurts, just squeeze my hand. Hard as you need to.”_ _

__Eyes half-lidded, Shiro turns his head on the pillow to look at Keith. “You’re pretty. So, so pretty. My Keith.”_ _

__The praise eases Keith’s heart by a fraction. “I am yours.” He touches his forehead against Shiro’s. “And you’re mine.”_ _

__Shiro smiles faintly, but it disappears as he curls over on his side, panting through the pain. “Please. Please don’t let them put me under.” He gasps. “Don’t want, not like last time.”_ _

__His plaintive plea nearly reduces Keith to a sob, but he holds it together. “It won’t be like last time. I promise. You won’t be alone. Not even for a second.” He brushes back Shiro’s hair, his knuckles lightly grazing Shiro’s cheekbone. “I don’t want you to be afraid.”_ _

__“I am afraid,” Shiro whispers, his hand gripping Keith’s tight enough that he can feel his fingers getting tingly._ _

__“What part are you scared about?” Keith asks, trying to keep his voice steady and calm. Sometimes Shiro’s better if he can talk things through._ _

__“Anesthesia. Sick after. Didn’t know where I was.”_ _

__“Okay. I’m going to make sure they get you on zofran. That helped you before, right?” Shiro nods. Keith knew the story of his accident now by heart, after pulling it out in bits and pieces over four years. “That we can handle. And I’ll come back as soon as they’ll let me into recovery.” He pauses, kissing the back of Shiro’s hand. “Anything else?”_ _

__Shiro looks up at him, his eyes wet. “I,” he stops, swallowing hard. “If I don’t make it--”_ _

__Keith’s heart stutters in his chest. “Shiro. Don’t even think it.”_ _

__“Awhile back I,” he exhales. He trembles a little against Keith. “I made a will. I named you next of kin.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“There’s a life insurance policy and there's money in my savings.” A tear drips down Shiro’s cheek. “I want to be sure you’re taken care of.”_ _

__Keith can’t even speak. He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a long breath. He’s going to break down later, he knows it, but not right now. “Shiro. You never said.”_ _

__“Just wanna protect you.” Shiro tips his head towards Keith. “In case I can’t do it myself.”_ _

__“You,” Keith manages, “are going to be fine. And I’m going to take care of you. And we’ll protect each other. Together. You hear me?” He pushes himself to his feet, pulling Shiro as close as he can without disturbing the wires and IV line. It’s not a hug, exactly, but a decent approximation._ _

__Shiro’s cheek presses against his chest, his head tucked under Keith’s chin. “I hear you.” His heartbeat definitely isn’t calm, but he hopes being close enough to feel it will make Shiro feel a little safer. Anytime Shiro has a nightmare, the next morning he’ll always find Shiro plastered to his ribs. Keith finds it endlessly endearing._ _

__Allura pokes her head around the curtain. “Sorry to disturb. Shiro, Dr. Smythe is here. He’s going to do a quick exam, but after that, we’ll be taking you up for surgery. Iverson feels you’re emergent.” Her mouth dips for a moment and Keith realizes what she means. They think his appendix might rupture. Fuck._ _

__Keith releases Shiro, helping him sit back, but doesn’t let go of his hand. “I’m staying,” he says, and Allura raises her eyebrows._ _

__“No one would dare try to tell you otherwise,” she says, giving Keith a slight smile._ _

__Dr. Smythe enters the exam room in orange scrubs that clash with his red handlebar mustache. The man’s a legend in the hospital, if eccentric. “Iverson’s brought me up to speed, Shiro. Goodness, you do look worse for wear.” He snaps on a pair of gloves. “Let me just have a look for myself.” He palpates Shiro’s abdomen, eliciting another painful cry from him. “Sorry. The good news is that you won’t be in pain for much longer. Don’t need an ultrasound to know what that is. Did we get the labs back?”_ _

__Allura hands him a tablet. “His white count is significantly elevated.”_ _

__“Well.” Dr. Smythe whistles as he reads the results. “That settles that. We need to get you upstairs quickly. I need to be faster than that cranky appendix of yours before it stops ticking, if you catch my drift. Do you have any questions?”_ _

__“I want to scrub in,” Keith says, his voice sharp. Shiro shouldn’t be there alone. Even if he can’t do anything except stand beside him, it’s where Keith belongs._ _

__Dr. Smythe shakes his head. “Not for this, I’m afraid. It’s against hospital policy and believe me, you don’t want to be in the room when it’s the person you love.”_ _

__“But I--”_ _

__“Keith. Trust me on this one. We’ve got him.” He inclines his head at Allura. “Allura will scrub in with me. I’ve done thousands of these. Shiro, I’ll see you up there, all right?”_ _

__Shiro nods, holding on to Keith’s hand as someone enters with forms to sign. Keith lets go, watching him sign his name on screens, the swoop of his signature. “They want to know about extraordinary measures.”_ _

__“The answer is yes,” Keith says, gesturing towards the box. Whatever it took to keep Shiro alive, he would consent to._ _

__“But if something bad happens, I don’t want to be hooked up to a machine forever.”_ _

__“Baby, look at me.” Keith waits until he looks. He tells him what Shiro needs to hear, needs to believe. “The percentage of bad outcomes for this is less than half a percent. The only thing you’ll be hooked up to an IV and vital monitor while you wait for jello after. I promise you’re going to be great.”_ _

__Shiro sighs, signing the rest of the forms. “And you’ll be there. When I wake up.”_ _

__“Yes. I will.” He gives Allura a grateful look. If Keith can’t be there himself, she’s the one he’d want. “And Allura will be with you the whole time, right?”_ _

__Allura comes around Shiro’s left flank, squeezing his shoulder. “I will not leave your side.”_ _

__A nurse appears in the doorway. “We need to get him prepped upstairs.”_ _

__For a moment, Keith feels like he can’t breathe. He and Shiro don’t say goodbye very much. They live together, study together, work together, eat together. They’ve grown around each other like vines around a tree, two separate lives entwined. The weight of everything Keith wants to say feels like a stone in his mouth._ _

__Shiro lets go of Keith’s hand, reaching up to undo the clasp of the chain around his neck. “Here,” he says, pressing the necklace into Keith’s hands. “You’ll keep this safe for me, yeah?”_ _

__Keith glances down at the silver rectangle in his palm. The pendant is always hanging around Shiro’s neck; he never takes it off. Keith’s thumb rubs over the engraving in the metal. It’s a tracing from an EKG, a single heartbeat, one of Keith’s. “I’ll keep it safe,” Keith says, putting the chain around his own neck. Shiro’s pendant is still warm from his skin as it bumps against the one Keith wears--engraved with one of Shiro’s heartbeats--making a tiny clinking sound. It’s simultaneously the nerdiest and yet most meaningful item he’s ever worn._ _

__“Keith.” Shiro’s voice is tight. His eyes are wet again with tears, but from pain or fear, Keith can’t tell. “I love you.”_ _

__“I love you.” Keith leans in, pressing a kiss against Shiro’s mouth. It’s a soft kiss, but he can feel Shiro’s sharp intake of breath, the way his body trembles. He’s hurting so much. “Go.” He squeezes Shiro’s prosthetic hand one more time. “Love you. See you soon.”_ _

__They start to wheel Shiro out and Keith grabs Allura’s bicep. “He’s really scared. He had a bad time with anesthesia in the past. See if they’ll give him something sooner than later to calm him down. And make sure he gets zofran after. And remind them that his bp tends to be a little low. And Allura.” He lets out a shaky breath. “Just…” He can’t even say the words._ _

__“I know.” She leans forward and presses a light kiss to his temple, like the brush of a feather against his skin. “See you after.”_ _

__The exam room is suddenly empty, leaving Keith standing alone beside a procedure tray. He takes a deep breath, and another. There are techniques he’s learned--they all have--to try to hold on to calm, to keep emotions from shaking out when they need to focus on patients: breathing exercises, peaceful mantras, sipping cold water. None of them work._ _

__His chest constricts tightly enough that he wonders his ribs don’t break as the first sob wells up inside him, breaking like a wave. Pressing a hand over his mouth, he stifles the sound, though in the busy emergency area it’s doubtful anyone will hear his weak cry over the sound of machines and chatter. He’s panting, barely about to get air in, overwhelmed. The tears come so fast he’s shocked when his cheeks are wet, dripping down to his scrubs. He leans against the wall to hold himself up, startled by the way he’s trembling. For a moment he starts to wonder if this is going to set off a full-blown panic attack and he desperately tries to cling to the sensation of the cold tile wall under his fingertips, the scent of the antiseptic._ _

__He goes through the list in his mind. Something you can feel, something you can smell, something you can see._ _

__“Keith?” He blinks, tears stuck to his lashes, and Hunk walks towards him, slow and steady. “Buddy, you okay?” Keith doesn’t answer. He lets out a soft sob and in a moment Hunk’s putting down two cups of coffee and opening his arms. “Hey. It’s all right.”_ _

__Keith had never been much for physical affection, not until meeting Shiro. He’d always had friends on his team, but their demonstrations of support usually came in the form of high-fives and playful slaps. Shiro’s affectionate as hell, though, and Keith didn’t realize what he was missing. It’s extended even to their friend group, which was a bit of a surprise for Keith, but he’s gotten used to the quick squeezes and touches. Keith stumbles against Hunk, burying his face against Hunk’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he manages, trying and failing to get the sobs to stop._ _

__“Just take a breath. It’s been a rough night.” Hunk’s keeping him upright, softly patting his back. “You’re okay.”_ _

__Keith’s knees buckle and for a second, he lets Hunk prop him up, waiting until he can breathe deeply enough to get his voice back. “My phone,” Keith stammers. “I put my phone down.”_ _

__“It’s why we know more than one person, dude.” Hunk’s voice is warm, kind. “You gotta have your people. We take care of each other. I know you’d do the same for me.”_ _

__“I don’t deserve a friend like you,” Keith finally manages when he’s steady enough to pull back, grabbing a paper towel from over the sink to press against his face. His head feels like it’s full of tightly-packed cotton and his scrub top is covered in tear stains. “Shit.”_ _

__Hunk gives a soft laugh. “Everyone deserves a friend like me. I’m seriously amazing at it.” He holds out a coffee cup. “See what I mean?”_ _

__Keith accepts it gratefully, taking a long drag. “Thank you.”_ _

__“It’s from the good cart, you know. In the middle of the night, I don’t drink crap unless I have to.”_ _

__A tiny smile plucks at Keith’s mouth. “I can tell.” He feels a bit like his strings have been cut, like his limbs aren’t fully capable of propelling him anywhere. He sees the curtain move and a flash of someone looking in. “Oh. We gotta go. They need the room.” He shuffles towards the door. “Guess I can have a breakdown somewhere else.”_ _

__Hunk leads the way towards the elevator, looking around conspiratorially before quietly saying, “Okay. We have two options. We can go to the family waiting room on the fourth floor and you can pretend to read a magazine while I take a nap, or, I can hack the swiper to the gallery on Shiro's OR and we can wait there.” He rocks back in his sneakers. “Your choice.”_ _

__Keith gapes at him. “What?”_ _

__The elevator opens and Hunk drags him in by the arm, smacking the button to the fourth floor before anyone else can enter. “I’m saying, i looked to see which OR Shiro would be in, and it’s one of the ones that has a gallery. It’s locked at night, but,” he looks towards the ceiling, “I’m just saying I know how to bypass it.”_ _

__Keith’s stomach bottoms out. “We could sneak into the gallery?”_ _

__“I mean, we’d have to keep it quiet and not give ourselves away, but if it helps you feel better about the whole thing, we can go there instead.” Hunk drinks his coffee. “But like, I’m all for napping in the waiting room, man.”_ _

__There’s no hesitation in his voice. “I want to be with Shiro.”_ _

__“You are kind of predictable that way,” Hunk says. The elevator doors open and they head in the opposite direction from the waiting area. “Just keep your head down.” Hunk grabs two tablets from an unoccupied nursing station. “Carry something. Always carry something.”_ _

__They head down a corridor and Keith’s almost turned around by the number of corners they’ve taken, until finally Hunk stops in front of an unassuming door with a black card swiper next to it. “So you can just, you know, stand here,” Hunk says, maneuvering Keith in front of him. “And I’ll sneak us in.”_ _

__He can’t see what Hunk is doing. “How do you know how to do this?”_ _

__“I was comp sci undergrad with minors in cybersecurity and robotics. You can’t believe the stuff I could do if I wanted.” There’s a soft ding and Hunk gives a hissed “Yes!” He bumps Keith’s back. “We’re in. Let’s go.”_ _

__The room is dim, with the only light coming through from the OR below. They maneuver through the space, down the steps towards the glass, but Hunk stops him partway before they emerge from darkness to semi-darkness. “We gotta be careful. Quiet. Stay down. Make sure your phone’s on silent.”_ _

__“Fuck. My phone. Pidge.” Keith ducks behind a chair and pulls out his phone. There’s four messages from Pidge, two expressing concern, one letting him know the pulm consult arrived, and a final one letting him know that she’d covered for Keith for now, and if she were a lesser person, he’d owe her big time._ _

__He climbs out and crawls towards Hunk, who’s seated on the ground against the wall. There are long metal slats that cover where they sit to shield them from view, and enough glass between the slats that they can peer down to the OR below. Hunk lets out a long breath. “Are you really gonna be able to watch this?”_ _

__Keith’s stomach clenches, twisting. The lights below are bright and it takes his eyes a moment to adjust as he looks down. Dr. Smythe and Allura stand on the left side of the table, their backs to the gallery, and at the head of the table, the anesthesiologist preps medication.In the middle of it all, covered in blue drapes, is Shiro. He tries to swallow, and then tries again. Hunk’s question is a good one. Will he? “I’m at least going to try.”_ _

__He’s not exactly sure how this will help him or Shiro, if he’s honest. They’re only putting Betadine on Shiro’s abdomen and Keith’s already trembling. He’s careful not to lean against the metal slats for fear his shaking will transfer and give them away._ _

__“I think they’re getting started,” Hunk whispers. He glances at Keith. “They’re going for an open procedure? Do they think it ruptured?”_ _

__Keith swallows. “They were worried about that, yeah.”_ _

__“Maybe they’ll catch it in time.”_ _

__“Maybe.” Keith already drained his coffee before they came in, and now he tears the plastic lid apart, peeling it into strips. He wasn’t expecting to be able to see Shiro and definitely not from this angle. He’s close enough to the monitors that he can see Shiro’s vitals slow and Dr. Smythe ask for a 10 blade._ _

__“It’s okay, you know,” Hunk says, “if you don’t wanna watch. I just thought you might want to be where you could see him. Or at least nearby him. But this might be a lot.” He sighs, and in the light thrown from the OR below, he looks tired. “I’ll watch if you want me to, though. Give you the play by play.”_ _

__Keith thumps the side of his sneaker against Hunk’s. “I’ll be okay. It’s nice of you to say that, though.”_ _

__He starts peeling the edge of his coffee cup, going through the early steps of the procedure in his mind. Keith’s observed a few appendectomies, but never done more than watched. They started with a Lanz incision instead of McBurney’s. At least the scar will be more hidden. Shiro hardly needs any more of them and Keith knows how sensitive Shiro is about them, even though he’s gotten a little more relaxed about his scars over the past few years. He watches Allura as Dr. Smythe asks for retraction and Keith wonders how she feels, if she’s nervous, if she’s concerned about Shiro. If she is, it’s impossible to tell. Her hands don’t shake and her back is straight under her surgical gown._ _

__“Keith.”_ _

__“What?” He glances over at Hunk._ _

__“You look kinda pale, buddy.”_ _

__“I’m fine.”_ _

__Hunk digs around in his hoodie and produces a bottle of water, rolling it towards Keith. “I know you’re fine. You’re always fine. But take a sip. Talk to me about something else for a minute.”_ _

__Keith unscrews the cap, trying to get the bottle to his lips without spilling any. God, he’s all trembly. It’s embarrassing. He snags a sip, releasing a long breath. “I don’t know what to talk about.” They’ve cut through to the oblique fibres and Keith is already thinking about how it’s going to hurt when Shiro laughs, how much pain he’s going to be in post-surgery. He knows Shiro can handle pain, but Keith’s not sure how well he’s going to handle seeing Shiro like this._ _

__“Coran’s the best general surgeon we have, you know?”_ _

__Keith purses his lips. “He lets you call him that?”_ _

__“I mean, he’s pretty chill about what you call him. Or at least he was during my rotation.”_ _

__“I have him next time.” Keith looks down to see they’ve opened up the transversalis fascia and he definitely feels his chest getting tight. Hunk’s right. He needs to look away, even for a few moments. This isn’t a textbook or gross anatomy or even a patient. This is the love of his life opened up on the table, naked and vulnerable, and Keith’s lungs feel like they can’t expand fully. “I thought you,” he says, trying to grab a breath, “didn’t want to go with surgery.”_ _

__“I don’t know, dude. I’m trying to figure it out. I think that in my heart I’m more a medical guy, but I felt like I needed to see more of it before I finally decided.” Hunk gives a soft laugh, tugging off his ever-present headband and running his hand through his thick, shaggy hair. “The good news is I don’t need to know today.”_ _

__“Right.” Keith’s still up in his head about what direction he wants to go, too, but that’s not tonight’s problem. Tonight’s problem is that Shiro’s on an operating table and his blood is on Dr. Smythe’s gloves and Keith bites the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes copper in his mouth._ _

__“Do you think--” Hunk stops. “It looks like they’re talking. I want to hear what Coran’s saying.” He sighs. “I should have patched into the intercom, too.”_ _

__“We already know. If they stopped to talk, it’s perfed.” Keith drags a hand through his hair, feeling the jingle of their shared pendants against his chest. “Fuck.” He reaches inside his scrub top, holding the metal inside his fist. Shiro has to be okay. Dr. Smythe is the best. Allura’s great. They’ll take care of him. A swell rises in his chest and Keith realizes it’s a sob, but he forces it back down, hoping Hunk doesn’t see._ _

__“They got him into surgery as fast as they could. If it is perfed, it might be minor.”_ _

__Keith can’t even respond because he knows if he does, he’ll start crying again. Instead, he keeps his gaze trained on Shiro’s monitors, watching his vitals. As long as they’re steady, he feels a little less like he might fall apart. “How many people have died on you so far?”_ _

__Hunk clears his throat. “Keith. That’s not.” He shifts. “Don’t ask that.”_ _

__“How many?”_ _

__Hunk’s quiet a long time. “Fifteen.”_ _

__“That you were there for?”_ _

__“Yeah.”_ _

__“Huh.” Keith rubs his thumb against the pendants. “I’m at twenty-one.”_ _

__Hunk lets out a long breath. “Shiro’s going to be fine.” He bumps his sneaker against Keith’s again. “Don’t be morbid. Besides, if anything did go wrong, you’d drop kick death in the face and bring Shiro back to life.” He sticks out his tongue. “I’ve seen your old hockey pictures. I know you fight dirty. If anyone comes after Shiro, well, they’re gonna get fucked up.”_ _

__Hunk’s not wrong. The closest Keith has come to physically protecting Shiro was when a patient who was drunk off his ass tried to take a swing at Shiro during one of their clinic days and Keith hadn’t even blinked before he hopped a gurney, leaped up, and pinned the 250lb guy to the bed. Shiro had thanked him, a blush rising to his cheeks, but later that night, he’d gotten very expressive with his gratitude. And a little loud. Keith loves it when Shiro gets loud._ _

__Keith glances at the clock. “He’s been under awhile.” Usually appendectomies were quicker surgeries, but when they ruptured, it was always longer. He grinds the back of his hand against his eyes. Shiro would need to be hospitalized for a few days, have longer recovery time, more risk of infection. If only he’d pushed harder, asked Shiro more questions, taken a little more time to be attentive before he left instead of just petting his boyfriend’s head while his appendix was getting worse the entire time._ _

__A low sound escapes Hunk’s throat. “They’re getting to a nasty part. Ugh, that’s really foul. Allura’s not even sweating. I’d be up to my neck in pit stains.”_ _

__Keith’s stomach clenches, and for a terrible second, he thinks he might lose the coffee Hunk had kindly brought him. Breathe, Kogane. Just breathe. Dr. Smythe had been right. He can barely handle seeing Shiro’s surgery from a distance, let alone standing in the room and watching it happen. Every muscle in his body feels tight as a bowstring but he makes himself watch their hands, their instruments, as they operate. Dr. Smythe’s hands are deft and sure and through the glass, Keith faintly hears him talking Allura through his every move. She’s just holding a retractor, but seeing her beside Shiro is a small comfort._ _

__Quiet falls between him and Hunk, but it’s the kind that Keith appreciates. Hunk reads him well. After years of working together in the med school labs, Hunk stopped trying to fill the silence and Keith tried to talk more, and their friendship grew out of their shared aversion to the smell of the lab fridge and a love of extremely spicy snack foods._ _

__Shiro’s vitals are still holding steady, but Keith’s not wild about how long this surgery’s been going on. His pager buzzes and he glances at it. “Shit.”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“It’s upstairs.” He groans. He can’t leave Shiro. He won’t._ _

__Hunk pushes himself upright without hesitation. “I’ll take it. Where?”_ _

__“Hunk, no.”_ _

__“Where?” His voice is insistent._ _

__“Room 5408. But dude, you just got off shift.”_ _

__“I slept a little. I’ll go. Don’t worry.”_ _

__“Hunk, you can’t.”_ _

__“And yet, too late.” He starts to creep towards the door. “When you leave, just make sure to pull the door shut tight. And tell Shiro I hope he feels better. Peace out, boy scout.”_ _

__He doesn’t want to let Hunk go in his place, but he does. He hopes to God his resident isn’t the one paging, but knowing his resident, it’s probably the nursing staff with a code. He lets out a shaky breath. How much more could he possibly owe Hunk? He pulls out his phone, texting Pidge to alert her to Hunk’s imminent arrival._ _

__Somehow watching the rest of the surgery alone feels even worse._ _

__++_ _

__Even though it’s been ten minutes since Keith raced to recovery, he still hasn’t been able to calm his breathing. He’d already tried to go back once and the nurses shooed him out, telling him Shiro wasn’t there yet. Keith presses his hands over his face, pacing across the hall._ _

__“Keith?”_ _

__He spins. “Allura!” Her expression is calm, and a white curl escapes over her forehead from her high ponytail. “Is he okay, is he—“_ _

__“He did well, all things considered.” She reaches out to touch Keith’s forearm. “His appendix was ruptured. We had to make the incision a little bigger to irrigate. We’re a little concerned about infection but he’s already on antibiotics. He was under longer than we anticipated, so it might take him a bit to come around. They’re bringing him into recovery now.”_ _

__Keith presses a hand to his chest, feeling the metal of their pendants underneath his scrubs. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”_ _

__Her smile is soft. “I didn’t do much. Just held a retractor. Little suction.” She raises one eyebrow. “I did get to do some of the stitches, though. Did my best to keep his abs a thing of beauty.”_ _

__“I appreciate it. I mean, I’m sure Shiro will.” Keith lets out a long breath before he pulls Allura into a hug. She’s taller than him, and his face smashes against her shoulder. “Knowing you were there helped. So much.”_ _

__“I’m glad I could be.” She squeezes him back. Sometimes he forgets how strong she is. “He’s going to be fine. He’s just going to need some extra care.” She releases him as her pager goes off. “Good thing he’s got you. And I,” she says, pulling it out, “am being summoned. Coran’s got another surgery. I’ll check back with you later, all right?”_ _

__“Sounds good.”_ _

__There’s a little piece of Keith that’s jealous of how sure Allura is. She knows she wants surgery. She’s pretty focused on either general or vascular, although sometimes she seems to flirt with the idea of neuro. She’s radiant and self-possessed. Usually the three of them were fighting for the top spot in all their med school classes, but now the bar is measured differently. Keith knows he’s good; he knows he belongs here. He’s just not sure how yet._ _

__“Kogane.” He looks up at the sound of his name to find one of the recovery nurses gesturing at him. She's distressed. “Get over here.”_ _

__Keith moves, meeting her at the door. “Everything okay?”_ _

__Her mouth is tight. “I wouldn’t normally let you back this early but he’s in rough shape. I think he needs you.”_ _

__Biting the inside of his cheek, Keith follows her back around to a curtained-off area towards the back, suddenly feeling a wave of fear. What if Shiro’s mad at him for not answering his phone? What if something went wrong in surgery and they need to operate again? What if they missed something?_ _

__The nurse pulls the curtain back to let Keith pass before she reaches out and puts her hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “I found Keith, all right? Everything’s fine, honey. Just try to relax.”_ _

__Shiro’s six foot four and stacked with muscle, but somehow, shoved into a hospital bed with a nasal cannula and skin pale as his sheets, he looks delicate. Fragile. He whimpers. “Keith?”_ _

__The painful, plaintive sounds he makes rend Keith’s heart. He pushes close, reaching down to grab Shiro’s prosthetic hand. “I’m here, baby. I’m here. It’s okay.” He squeezes his hand again, surprised Shiro’s not squeezing back._ _

__Shiro’s head rolls on the pillow towards Keith. “Can’t move. Why can’t I move?” His eyes are glassy, unfocused. “Help me. Please, help me!”_ _

__The nurse records his vitals and fusses with his IV drip. “It’s taking awhile for the muscle relaxants to wear off. It could be related to his prosthetic.” She frowns when Shiro’s heart rate spikes. “Try to calm him down, would you?”_ _

__Keith nods, letting go of the prosthetic in case it’s making Shiro more upset. “Hey.” He leans forward, pressing a light kiss against Shiro’s temple. He pitches his voice in that soft tone that Shiro likes when he first wakes up on the rare days they get to sleep in. “Did you hear the nurse? You’re coming off of the anesthesia. It’s why you feel so strange. It’ll pass, okay?”_ _

__“I can’t move!” His breath is rattling and Keith can’t help but touch a hand to his chest, careful of the EKG wires. Just feeling Shiro breathe, even as panicked as he is, grounds Keith a little. He’s alive. He’s breathing. Talking._ _

__“You’ll be able to move soon. I promise.”_ _

__“You’re here,” Shiro rasps, his voice tight. “You’re really here.”_ _

__“Shh, sweetheart. I’m right here.” Keith can feel his own panic rising, but he pushes it back down. He needs to keep it together. “Can you try to take a breath with me? Maybe we can calm down a little, you and me?” Keith sees Shiro hesitate, but he finally takes a small breath, and then another. “That’s good. So good.”_ _

__Shiro closes his eyes. He looks like he might start to cry and then Keith’s really done for. “Did I lose my arm?”_ _

__Confusion after general was normal, but Keith’s stomach flips to hear Shiro ask the question. “You had surgery to take out your appendix. Your arms are fine, even if you can’t feel them quite yet.” He smooths his palm over Shiro’s forehead. “You feel that? You feel my hand?”_ _

__The movement seems to quiet him. “Yeah.”_ _

__“Good. Good job. Just focus on the feeling of my fingers, okay? I’ll just run them through your hair a little, yeah? That always helps.”_ _

__Shiro whimpers again, swallowing hard. “Throat hurts.”_ _

__“Oh, I know. I’m sorry.” Keith flicks a glance at Shiro’s monitors. His heart rate seems to be steadying a bit. “It’s from the tube. It’ll feel better in a little while.”_ _

__He licks his dry lips, his expression miserable. “Thirsty.”_ _

__“I’ll see if I can get you something for that.” He keeps sweeping one hand through Shiro’s forelock while the other rubs along the top of Shiro’s right bicep, right above his prosthetic. “You’re doing so well.”_ _

__He keeps up his ministrations and Shiro’s eyelids drift shut. “You have a nice voice.”_ _

__“Oh, yeah?”_ _

__“It’s all soft and pretty.” Shiro sighs. “You’re pretty.”_ _

__Keith’s grateful for the corner space and the curtain; at least it gives them a little privacy. “So are you.”_ _

__Shiro blinks, studying Keith’s face. “I dreamed about you.”_ _

__“Really?”_ _

__“You were singing in my dream. With your pretty voice. And we were in space.” Shiro’s prosthetic hand flexes and he gasps. “Oh, my God, my hand moved.”_ _

__“Oh, that’s good.” Keith squeezes it, breathing out relief when Shiro squeezes back. “The muscle relaxants are finally wearing off.” He rubs Shiro’s hip. “Can you wiggle your toes for me?”_ _

__Under the blankets, Shiro’s feet move. “Feels weird.”_ _

__After checking his vitals again, the nurse brings Keith a cup of water and a sponge swab. “Don’t give him too much. We got him on the antiemetics but we really don’t want him getting nauseated.”_ _

__Keith holds out the damp sponge, bringing it to Shiro’s lips. “Here, sweetheart.” Shiro opens his mouth and Keith steadies the stick as Shiro sucks a little water off the sponge. “There you go.”  
He dips the sponge in a few more times, wetting Shiro’s lips and helping him slake the worst of his thirst. _ _

__Shiro settles back against the pillow. “I love you.”_ _

__Keith’s chest tightens as he sets the water aside, holding on to Shiro’s metal hand. “I love you, too. So much.”_ _

__They sit quietly for a few moments and Keith feels the tension bleeding out of him. After watching them cut into Shiro’s body, the relief at hearing Shiro’s sweet attempts at post-op flirting is overwhelming. There’s so much he wants to say, but he knows Shiro’s not quite himself right now and the best thing he can do is be calm, be steady. He can do that. He can be that for Shiro._ _

__Inside Keith’s palm, he feels Shiro’s prosthetic tremble. Under the blankets, Shiro starts to shiver. “Hey, love. You doing okay?”_ _

__Shiro tips his head in Keith’s direction. “Feel kinda shaky.”_ _

__Keith’s gaze lands on the monitors; Shiro’s vitals are all within normal limits for someone right out of surgery. “Did this happen to you last time you had surgery? Do you remember?”_ _

__Shiro’s teeth clatter as he shivers. “Cold.”_ _

__Postanesthetic shivering isn’t uncommon, Keith knows, but seeing Shiro tremble like this unfurls something deeply protective in him. “It’s okay. I’ll be right back.”_ _

__“No!” Shiro’s yelp stops Keith’s movements. “Don’t leave. Don’t leave me.”_ _

__“Okay, okay.” He slides back onto the stool, gripping Shiro’s hand between his palms. “I’m not leaving. I’m here.” He calls for the nurse, who reappears a few moments later with a warming blanket. “You don’t think he needs medication for it, do you?” Keith’s brain spits out the answers like he would for rounds: tramadol, pethidine._ _

__“The doctor will be over to check on him in a few minutes, but no, I don’t think so. His chart said he doesn’t deal well with general. It’s to be expected. We’ll keep him warm and hopefully the shivering will stop. If not, we’ll see how else we can keep him comfortable.”_ _

__The blanket seems to be helping. Shiro’s trembling is less and his expression softens a bit. “Your hands are warm.”_ _

__“I keep them that way just for you.” Keith presses a kiss against Shiro’s metal knuckles. “Do you remember what happened?”_ _

__Shiro frowns. “I remember the ambulance. And then you were there. Everything hurt.” He glances down at himself. “They cut my stomach.” He lets out a soft whine. “I did all those planks.”_ _

__“Your abs will be beautiful. Don’t worry. You’re always beautiful.” He reaches out to adjust the cannula under Shiro’s nose. “How’s the pain?”_ _

__Shiro winces. “Just my throat.”_ _

__Later once the general fully wears off he knows Shiro’s going to be hurting, but he’s grateful that right now it’s being managed. “You want a little more water?” Shiro nods, and Keith holds the stick back to his lips, rolling the sponge on his tongue._ _

__“Thank you.” Shiro says. “You take care of me.”_ _

__“Of course I do.” Keith can’t help but lean forward and press a kiss against Shiro’s cheekbone. “You take care of me, too.”_ _

__“Can we go home now?”_ _

__God, Keith wishes. He’d love nothing more than to tuck Shiro into their bed and fall asleep, but Shiro’s going to need a few days in the hospital before they release him. And Keith’s going to have to get yelled at by his resident for disappearing in the middle of a shift. But right now, Keith doesn’t care. He can make sure Shiro’s warm and tell him he loves him and there’s not really anything more important than that._ _

__“Not yet. But soon.”_ _

__++_ _

__Keith blinks into the near-darkness, startled. His neck aches from the shitty recliner chair beside Shiro’s bed and his foot’s asleep from the awkward way he was curled up. He sits up, listening for the sound that woke him. A few seconds pass and he hears it again. A whimper._ _

__It’s Shiro._ _

__Keith’s on his feet in moments, his balance off from the pins and needles, and squints under the faint light thrown from Shiro’s monitors and IV. Shiro’s eyes are closed, but his mouth is tight. Keith reaches out and then hesitates. Shiro’s heart rate is high for sleeping--usually his pulse is so slow that sometimes it worries Keith a little if he wakes in the night--but it’s only been a little over a day since his surgery and he’s clearly in pain._ _

__Shiro lets out another soft sound and then he groans, stirring a little. Keith’s hand rests on Shiro’s cheek and he looks up, licking his dry lips before whispering, “Keith.”_ _

__“I’m here.” He smooths his hand over Shiro’s cool forehead, grateful there’s no fever._ _

__“Hurts,” he says, his pretty mouth twisting in a grimace._ _

__“I know,” Keith says. It’s a little alarming coming from Shiro, who never likes to complain about physical pain, but his surgery hadn’t exactly been the simple appendectomy Keith had hoped for. He grabs the plastic pump tucked into the side of Shiro’s sheets. “Here’s the morphine pump. You should be using it.”_ _

__Shiro groans again. “I don’t like it.” He sucks in a breath between his clenched teeth. “Makes me feel bad.”_ _

__They had the same conversation two hours ago. Keith rakes a hand through his hair. It’s a little dirty and he really needs a shower, but he refuses to leave Shiro’s side. Well, except for the abrupt conversation he had with the head of his residency program. Fortunately they decided against formally reprimanding him. He’ll have to do a shift tomorrow and work out a schedule for when Shiro’s released to go home, but for the moment, at least he can focus just on Shiro._ _

__“You’re in pain.”_ _

__Shiro shifts a little on the mattress. He’s in a gown, covered with white blankets, and his left arm has a blood pressure cuff around his bicep and an IV in his hand. The crook of his elbow’s covered with a square of gauze; the phlebotomist was just in and took three vials. Luckily they got Shiro’s vein on the first try; Keith was ready to do it himself if they missed. Shiro lets out a short breath. “It’s not terrible.”_ _

__Keith touches Shiro’s chest, resting his hand over Shiro’s heart and feeling the quick beats under his fingertips. “Your pulse keeps creeping up, baby. The pain’s getting ahead of you.”_ _

__Shiro glances up at his monitor, frowning. “Shit.”_ _

__He looks exhausted. All Keith wants to do is soothe each tight muscle, kiss away every line of tension, but that’s not going to solve Shiro’s pain tonight. “You’re in control of it, yeah? You don’t have to use it all. You can use a little for now and more later.” He’s explaining a morphine pump as if Shiro doesn't know what it is, but saying it out loud makes Keith feel more useful. “Just try a few clicks and take the edge off. I know you don’t like how it makes you feel, but the pain’s making your body work harder than it needs to.”_ _

__Shiro picks up the plastic bulb in his prosthetic, staring at it. It takes everything in Keith to not just tear it out of Shiro’s hand and squeeze it until he gets some pain relief, but he doesn’t. Keith wouldn’t. He knows Shiro well enough to understand his need for autonomy, for control over his own body. Shiro’s gone through enough in his life where that was taken away. He lets Shiro just hold it, lets him be silent, and he strokes his fingers through Shiro’s hair. His other hand stays over Shiro’s heart, his thumb gently rubbing against Shiro’s sternum. He feels Shiro’s breath get faster, feels the way Shiro’s heart beats faster as he considers. He wants to rush him. He wants to just make the pain stop._ _

__But loving Shiro sometimes means being patient and quiet. Keith can do that._ _

__After a few minutes of silence, Keith presses a kiss against Shiro’s forehead. “If you want to talk about it, I’m listening.”_ _

__Shiro’s chin tips up. “About what?”_ _

__“About whatever you want to tell me.” The story of Shiro’s accident is like a ceramic mosaic spanning a wall. Keith has been given enough tiny chips to understand the image, but the mosaic is far from complete._ _

__“It’s late,” Shiro deflects, still holding the pump in his open palm. “You must be tired.”_ _

__“Never too tired for you. And we’re interns, so you know this is true love if I pick you over sleep.”_ _

__Shiro’s mouth turns up at the corners. “True love.”_ _

__Keith lets out a soft laugh. “You’re stuck with me, Dr. Shirogane.” It’s just Keith trying to be comforting, but suddenly Shiro’s expression crumbles and he feels Shiro’s chest shudder. A little sob catches and Shiro chokes it back, tears streaming down his face. “Oh, my God. Shiro, what’s wrong?”_ _

__It takes Shiro a few seconds to catch his breath before he lets out a groan. “Ow.”_ _

__“Shit, is it the pain? Should I call-”_ _

__“No, just crying hurts.” Shiro rests his left hand over his abdomen, the tears still coming. “It’s just, last time I... but you’re here now.”_ _

__Keith grabs a tissue from the little packet he brought in because he couldn’t stand the idea of Shiro using the rough hospital tissues they provide. He dabs at Shiro’s eyes. “I don’t think I understand.”_ _

__“The pain meds,” Shiro says, his breathing a little steadier, “Put me out. After the accident. Everything seemed so hazy and unreal.” He stops to take a sip of water that Keith holds out for him. “Then there was the breakup, or whatever it is when you’re post-surgery and you get left, and then, the meds made everything worse. It was too hard to be on them and keep coming back to an empty chair.”_ _

__Keith’s own breath stops at the thought. How anyone could just abandon Shiro, walk away from this stunning, brilliant, loving man, is so far beyond him that he can’t comprehend it. “The meds bring back bad memories for you."_ _

__Shiro nods, pressing his cheek against Keith’s palm. “But that’s not you. You don’t leave. You stay.”_ _

__“Shiro.” The words should anchor him, but instead, Keith’s chin drops, his stomach twisting from more than the fact he hasn’t had anything more than the jello on Shiro’s tray he didn’t want. He swallows, trying to keep his voice steady. “This whole thing is my fault.”_ _

__Shiro’s voice is bleary, confused. “What?”_ _

__“You needed me, you were sick, and I just left you at home.” All the guilt that Keith’s been carrying since the call from Lance starts to spill over and he’s helpless to stop it. It bounds through his chest like palpitations. “I’m a doctor now. I should have known something was really wrong with you.”_ _

__“My symptoms weren’t alarming.” His hand’s still pressed over the pillow on his stomach. “It wasn’t until after you left that it got worse.”_ _

__“But I did leave you, and it got worse, and if it wasn’t for Hunk,” he stops, his breath shaky. “You could’ve, something terrible could’ve, and you were texting me, and I didn’t have, fuck.” So much for staying calm for Shiro. He can barely see through the sheen of tears. “I didn’t have my phone.”_ _

__“Keith, baby, no.” Shiro grabs for Keith’s hand, squeezing it. “This isn’t your fault at all! It’s no one’s fault. My appendix went rogue. Neither of us saw that coming, okay?”_ _

__“But you were alone and you needed me,” Keith said, rubbing his cheek against his shirtsleeve, trying to wipe his face. “If I’d paid better attention, I could have prevented this.”_ _

__“They would have had to do surgery no matter what. There was no preventing anything.”_ _

__“But you never complain when you’re sick. I should have known something was off. I should have--”_ _

__Shiro tugs his hand. “You did everything I could have asked for. You made me feel safe before they put me under. You were there when I woke up. You’re up with me in the middle of the night when I’m in pain.” He kisses Keith’s knuckles. “No one could love me better than that.”_ _

__“I do love you,” Keith manages. “So much.”_ _

__“I love you, too.” Shiro squeezes his fingers and then lets go, picking up the plastic bulb. “I’ll make you a deal.”_ _

__Keith sniffs, unwilling to use one of the good tissues on himself and he grabs one of the scratchy ones from the box on Shiro’s tray. “Oh?”_ _

__“I”ll use the morphine pump if you promise not to feel guilty anymore for something you didn’t do.” Letting go of his guilt won’t be as immediate as a narcotic, but he can work on that. Keith nods. “And there’s one more thing.”_ _

__“Okay.”_ _

__“Let me hold you. Please?”_ _

__Keith taps the plastic shields on the side of the bed, a little smile on his face. “You sure there’s enough room in there for both of us?”_ _

__“They gave me the big gurney. There’s enough room.” He starts to inch over and then winces in pain. “Maybe,” he says, giving the morphine pump a squeeze, “I’ll use this before I move.”_ _

__“Squeeze it three times and I’ll join you.”_ _

__Shiro makes a show of getting two more clicks of morphine and then pats the strip of hospital mattress next to him. “All yours.”_ _

__After tugging off his sneakers, Keith climbs over the side of the bed, carefully arranging himself beside Shiro. He can’t lay on Shiro’s right side because of his surgical wound, and the left side is a little tricky with the IV, but Keith manages. “Don’t move too much,” Keith warns, settling on the terrible plastic pad they call a mattress. “You’ll set off your alarms and then the nurses will be in.”_ _

__“I’m fine. You can put your head here, it’s all right.” Shiro lifts up his arm, careful of his IV tube, and Keith presses his face against Shiro’s ribs._ _

__“You’re sure that doesn’t hurt?”_ _

__“Promise.” Shiro nuzzles against Keith’s hair, pressing a kiss against his crown. “You smell like hospital.”_ _

__Keith wrinkles his nose. “You smell like Betadine.” And he does, but underneath is that distinct, ridiculous _boy_ smell that is uniquely Shiro’s. “But I don’t care.”_ _

__For a long, quiet moment, there’s just the holding. The way that even crammed into a hospital bed, they fit together. It’s Shiro’s soft breathing and the familiar beat of his heart, finally starting to slow down now that he’s acquiesced to the pain meds. Keith knows that part of the reason Shiro’s calming down is because he’s touching Keith, and it makes something inside of him feel warm and proud, like he can actually make Shiro feel better when he’s at his worst._ _

__The mechanical whirr of Shiro’s leg compression sleeves starts up and Keith snorts against Shiro’s gown. “They had to get the big ones for you because your sexy-ass calves didn’t fit in the smaller ones. That’s what happens when you’re six four and massively thick.”_ _

__Shiro scoffs. “God, I hate these things. I understand the science of preventing blood clots but like, damn, could they be any more annoying?” He sounds just a little sleepy and Keith’s so grateful. “And you like my legs.”_ _

__“I love your legs. I could write a song about your thighs. And don’t get me started on those delicate little ankles.” Keith lets out a soft sigh, lightly patting Shiro’s left thigh over the blanket. “I know the sleeves are annoying but we gotta protect these national treasures, yeah?”_ _

__The sound of Shiro’s medicated laugh is music. He’s almost a little giggly, like the time when they were in their third year of med school and they stayed up for thirty-six hours straight studying. “Keith,” he says, glancing down towards his belly. “I think they shaved me kinda crooked.”_ _

__“It’s okay. We can fix it if you want when we get home and you’re feeling better.” Keith tips his head up and presses a kiss to Shiro’s cheek. “How’re you feeling now? Is the pain any less?”_ _

__“Yeah.” Shiro nods. “Took the edge off.”_ _

__“What number are you feeling on a scale of 1 to 10?”_ _

__Shiro nudges Keith lightly. “Are you doctoring me right now?”_ _

__“Of course I am. What’s your number?”_ _

__Asking Shiro about pain and numbers was, admittedly, a little bit of a fishing expedition because Shiro’s concept of pain was different from a lot of people’s. Still, Keith wants to know. Shiro purses his lips. “I don’t know. Like, maybe a 5.”_ _

__Keith smooths a hand along Shiro’s chest. “Maybe we get it down a little more? They’re only going to let you have the PCA pump for so long.”_ _

__Shiro closes his eyes. “I know. I know you’re right.” He gives the pump another click and then sets it aside. “But that’s it. I don’t want to get really weird. Or get sick. You know I hate getting sick.”_ _

__“I know. They put you on meds for that, courtesy of me being the loud boyfriend.”_ _

__“I love my loud boyfriend.” Shiro’s arm squeezes him as much as he's able. “I know you could have gone home but I’m really glad you’re with me.”_ _

__Keith nuzzles against Shiro’s chest. “I never left you, you know.”_ _

__“What do you mean?”_ _

__“I was with you. During surgery. Hunk and I snuck into the gallery.”_ _

__Shiro’s eyes go wide. “You watched?”_ _

__“I didn’t want you to be alone! And they wouldn’t let me in the OR.”_ _

__“The gallery’s closed at that hour. You broke in?”_ _

__Keith clears his throat, “Hunk worked his magic so I could at least be close to you. And I watched some. Most.” He pauses. “It wasn’t easy. Seeing you like that.”_ _

__Shiro rests his head against Keith’s. “I’m sure it wasn’t.”_ _

__“I tried to pay attention but all I could think about was you, if you were going to be okay, how much pain you’d be in, how long you were under.” Keith sighs. “It was surreal. And now I get why you don’t operate on people you love. It’s just too much. Too hard.”_ _

__“Also against AMA regulations, but that’s another story.” He gives Keith a tired smile. “You and Hunk are unbelievable. You just sat there in the dark?”_ _

__“Yeah.” Keith hums. “I don’t know what I was thinking. It wasn’t like I could do anything from up there. Just my forehead pressed against the glass watching, helpless.”_ _

__Shiro’s eyes are half-lidded. “But you didn’t want me to be alone.”_ _

__“I didn’t want you to be alone,” Keith echoes._ _

__Shiro lets out a soft sound, adjusting himself against Keith’s body. “You’re so good. So good to me.”_ _

__“I’m every bit as good to you as you deserve.” Keith nudges his chin against Shiro’s chest. “And I’m maybe a little overprotective.”_ _

__“If I’m honest, I’m kinda into it.” Shiro’s laugh is quiet, light as he strokes Keith’s nape. “Your poor neck must be aching. Those chairs are murder. Should’ve gone home. I wish I was home.”_ _

__“You think I could sleep while you’re here in the hospital hooked up to machines? I don’t think so.”_ _

__Shiro snorts and it’s precious. “You make it sound like I'm on life support. It’s an EKG and an IV.”_ _

__“I don’t care. Still machines. I’m where I belong right here. Next to you.”_ _

__It takes Shiro a minute to respond. “I love you.” He exhales, his breathing finally slowing. “And I’m tired.”_ _

__“If you can sleep, you should. Just close your eyes. I’m here if you need me.”_ _

__“I do need you.”_ _

__“Shh, sleep, okay?”_ _

__Shiro’s body goes lax beside him as he slides tentatively into sleep, and Keith stays up for a few more minutes to watch his monitors, making sure everything’s okay. Keith’s never had a lot of trouble sleeping and as exhausted as he is, cocooned next to the love of his life, it’s not hard to drop off. Shiro’s sleep is restless, and even in slumber he makes soft, pained sounds. Keith snags a few hours of sleep, smoothing his hand over Shiro’s chest to soothe him when his sleep is disturbed by dreams. Through the closed blinds, he can see faint daylight creeping between the slats. He sighs, climbing over the bedrails. Rounds will start soon and he’d rather not be tucked next to Shiro when the medical team comes through._ _

__A few minutes later, Shiro lets out a groan, his left arm searching for Keith. He blinks, pressing the support pillow over his midsection. “Keith.”_ _

__“I’m here.” Keith drags his fingers through Shiro’s forelock. “How’re you feeling?”_ _

__“Pain’s back,” Shiro says, breath a bit sharp. “Problem with pain meds.” He hisses. “You get used to the reprieve. And then the pain’s worse after.”_ _

__Keith adjusts the front of Shiro’s gown, straightening the EKG wires snaking out from the top. “What’s your number?”_ _

__“Keith.”_ _

__“If you want me to guess by your face, I’d say a 6 or 7.”_ _

__Shiro frowns._ _

__“Now it’s an 8 or 9.”_ _

__“It’s not that high. It’s like a 5.”_ _

__“That’s halfway to the worst pain you’ve ever felt.” Keith fishes out the pump. “Use what you need. It’s what it’s for. And,” he said, putting a little softness into his voice, “I have to do ten hours today and I won’t be here for you until after I’m done. It would really help me to know that you’re using the meds. I don’t want to picture you in pain, baby.” He’s not above a little guilt now._ _

__Shiro purses his lips and then gives a nod. “For you, okay.” He clicks the pump a handful of times and then when Keith gives him a long stare, he clicks it once more. “Will that ease your mind?”_ _

__“Yes.” Keith presses a kiss to Shiro’s cheekbone. “You should know I heard a rumor.”_ _

__Shiro’s eyebrows lift. He loves hospital gossip, even if he always denies it. “Oh?”_ _

__“About you.”_ _

__“The one about how I’m secretly a prince in hiding? That came from Maggie in peds. She’s six.”_ _

__“No, but I like that one too.” Keith leans in close. “I heard the nurses in the hall. They said you might be able to be discharged today or tomorrow.”_ _

__Shiro’s expression turns wistful. “Home?”_ _

__“As long as you’re stable and feeling up to it. Make sure you walk around some today when the nurses let you.” He bumps Shiro’s elbow. “And try to take a shit.”_ _

__A goofy laugh spills out of Shiro. “You said shit.”_ _

__“The meds are hitting, huh?” Keith squeezes Shiro’s hand. He hadn’t gotten to see this side of Shiro the night before and there’s a little part of him that’s curious about what Shiro will be like._ _

__“The meds.” Shiro takes a deep breath. “Are good.” He gives Keith a look, head tilted. “I have something to tell you.”_ _

__“All right.”_ _

__Shiro whispers. “I’m naked under this gown.”_ _

__Keith tries not to laugh. “I know. It’s okay.”_ _

__“Keith.” He points up at the monitor. “Look.” Shiro starts to dissolve into giggles._ _

__“What’s so--oh.”_ _

__“My heart rate says 69.” Shiro’s still laughing, the kind where he can’t quite stop. It’s ridiculously endearing._ _

__“You’re a little high right now,” Keith says, shaking his head at Shiro. “How’s your pain?”_ _

__“It is so much better. Like, a world better. Like, a 3.” Shiro holds up three fingers. “Like this.”_ _

__“Good. That’s good.” Keith’s stomach lets out a long growl and Shiro looks scandalized._ _

__“Oh, no, Keith,” Shiro says, tugging Keith’s wrist to pull him closer. He puts his palm on Keith’s stomach. “You’re so hungry. You need food. You’re so grouchy when you don’t have food.” He pats Keith’s abdomen. “I will give you my jello,” he says, voice solemn._ _

__Shiro’s still patting Keith’s stomach when Dr. Symthe enters, blessedly without a group of residents in tow. “Dr. Shirogane! How are you doing this morning?”_ _

__“Coran.” Shiro points at Keith. “He needs food.”_ _

__Dr. Smythe’s mustache twitches. “I’m sure that Dr. Kogane will make arrangements for that. But you, Shiro, how’s your pain?”_ _

__“I have this magic button,” Shiro says. “Poof! No pain. Mostly no pain. Only tiny pain.”_ _

__Dr. Smythe gives Keith a knowing glance. “You finally convinced him to use the pump, I see.”_ _

__“Took a little cajoling but, yeah.” Keith backs up a few steps to give Dr. Smythe room to get closer, and Shiro pouts._ _

__“Keith,” he whines, reaching out his prosthetic._ _

__Keith comes around to Shiro’s left side, smoothing a hand over his forearm. “Shh, just let Dr. Smythe check you over, all right?”_ _

__“It’s Coran. No need to be so formal.” He pulls out his stethoscope from his jacket pocket and listens to Shiro’s heart. “Take a few deep breaths for me, would you?” Shiro does as directed but looks up at Keith and gives the world’s least subtle wink. “You said you had that murmur checked out, hmm?”_ _

__“Oh, yes. All the time.” Shiro snickers, trying and failing to wink again._ _

__Keith clears his throat, hoping his flush isn't noticeable. “Yes, he’s seen Dr. Kerberos in cardio. Murmur’s benign.”_ _

__“Very good,” Dr. Smythe says. “Shiro, you’re all right if Keith stays while I examine you?”  
“He’s seen it all,” Shiro says, nodding. _ _

__Keith’s mortified. “Oh, my God.”_ _

__“It’s all right. I’m not bothered by a bit of morphine-inspired nonsense.” Dr. Smythe lifts up the blanket and Shiro’s gown._ _

__“It’s not nonsense,” Shiro says, groaning a little as Dr. Smythe examines the wound. “Ow. Keith has seen me naked. For years.”_ _

__If Dr. Smythe is annoyed, it’s impossible to tell. He’s so calm and careful with Shiro, and Keith can’t help but be inspired by his manner. Sometimes the man could seem a little manic, but when he’s next to Shiro’s bedside, he’s collected and easy to talk to. He reminds Keith of Allura a bit._ _

__“I couldn’t be happier with how you’re progressing. The wound looks good, your labs and vitals are good, and I think we may be looking at discharge if all stays well. Perhaps later today, or first thing in the morning. I’ll have my team round on you later to check in.”_ _

__Keith swallows. There’s a tiny part of him that’s nervous about bringing Shiro home, away from the meds and monitors and the very helpful surgeons if something were to go wrong. “You think he’s okay? Even with the rupture?”_ _

__“He’s responded as well as I could hope. We’ll keep him on the antibiotics and we’ll run labs later today. He’s showing no sign of fever, his appetite is starting to come back, and he’s managing the pain. We’ll send him home with a small amount of pain meds if he wants to use them. As long as he’s able to move a little more every day, rest, and take care of the wound, I see no reason to keep him here.” Dr. Smythe gives a little grin. “Plus he’s got a live-in doctor, so that’s always helpful.” He hands over some brochures. “By now I’m sure you know the drill for wound care like this, but here’s all of it in writing. My team or I will go over the fine points before official discharge.”_ _

__“That’s really helpful. Thanks, Dr. Smythe. Coran.”_ _

__“And you, Shiro. What questions do you have for me?”_ _

__Shiro stares at Dr. Smythe for a long moment. “How high can I get my heart rate?”_ _

__Dr. Smythe’s mustache twitches. “That’s an unusual question, but once the sutures are removed in about a week you can get back to low-impact exercise. I’d wait for running for a few weeks. No heavy lifting, of course, so avoid any weight training. Does that answer your question?”_ _

__Shiro frowns. “I meant sex.” He points, making moon eyes. “With Keith.”  
Keith flushes down to his collarbones and backs up from the bed two steps, running into the breakfast tray, knocking a plastic bowl of oatmeal all over his sneakers and a small bowl of red jello gloops onto the floor. The clatter of silverware and containers rattles the walls of the small room. “Shit,” he mutters, grabbing the terrible hospital tissues and trying to clean up the mess._ _

__“Ah,” Dr. Smythe says, nonplussed. “Yes. Of course. Well, you’ll want to wait until your sutures are removed, of course, so at least a week when you have your follow-up visit. After that, you can resume physical intimacies when you feel ready.”_ _

__Keith dumps the oatmeal-sodden tissues onto the tray, apologizing to the orderly, who promises to return with another. “Um, sorry about that, Dr. Sm--Coran.”_ _

__“It’s a perfectly natural question.”_ _

__“A week is a long time,” Shiro says sadly. “Have you seen Keith? He’s so beautiful. A week?”_ _

__“I have no doubt you’ll endeavor to persevere.” Dr. Smythe pats Shiro’s hand. “Take care and get some rest, Shiro.”_ _

__Dr. Smythe gives a little snort laugh as he heads out the door._ _

__Keith hisses as Shiro makes a mournful sound. “Shiro. Oh, my God.”_ _

__“I just wanna know how long I have to wait because I miss your dick.”_ _

__Keith sighs. “I mean, if I’m honest, same, but you had surgery two days ago. You need to be patient.”_ _

__“But I already AM a patient.” He dissolves into a goofy laugh._ _

__“You’re such a mess right now.” Keith presses a kiss against Shiro’s temple. “But you’re my mess and I love you to pieces.”_ _

__Shiro beams up at him, and then looks over the bedrail and addresses Keith’s crotch. “Wait for me,” he whispers._ _

__“Are you talking to my dick?”_ _

__“Yes.”_ _

__++_ _

__Lance pulls up in front of their building, looking over his shoulder to the back seat. “Door to door service for our favorite paladin.”_ _

__Shiro gives a half smile, holding a pillow tightly against his abdomen. “We’re going to get back to that campaign.”_ _

__“Oh, I know. The princess saved my ass and I need to make it up to her. And you’d just come back to life, right? Resurrected by your druid boyfriend?” Lance grins at Keith. “We’d all have been dead if Shiro hadn’t gone up against the dragon.” He lets out a sigh. “Remember when we had a life? When we could just chill on a Friday night instead of being on call?”_ _

__It was honestly a little hard to remember. “We’ll get there. Look at Matt. Sometimes he even has two days off in a row.”_ _

__Lance pulls his sunglasses down. “Well, if you need me, gentlemen, please don’t call because I’m on scut for the next twelve hours. But always happy to give you a ride in my beautiful Blue.” The car’s old and shakes a little when it idles, but it’s a stunning royal blue despite its age. Neither he nor Shiro has a car at the moment--they live so close to the hospital it hardly seems worth it--but that doesn’t stop Keith from wistfully scrolling on car websites for something sleek and red and fast. A secret part of him always wanted a motorcycle, but the amount of head injuries he saw had diminished that dream._ _

__“Thanks for the ride.” Shiro reaches for the door handle and groans, and Keith stops him._ _

__“I got it. Stay here, I’ll let you out.” He gives Lance a wave. “Thanks, man.” Climbing out of the backseat, he slings Shiro’s bag over his shoulder and comes around the other side to open the door. Shiro struggles to get out at first, but Keith’s supporting arm is enough to help him rise to his feet. “There you go. Good job.”_ _

__By the time they make it to the front door of their building, Shiro’s breathing a little hard. “I shouldn’t be this tired,” he says, leaning on Keith for support as they wait for the elevator. Usually Shiro likes to take the stairs, because he is that person and he likes to see the steps on his watch._ _

__“Discharge isn’t a quick process and you already did five laps around the nurses’ station earlier today. We’re going to get you settled in at home, okay?”_ _

__Shiro rests his cheek on Keith’s head. “I feel disgusting.”_ _

__“Would you like some help with a shower? Coran said you can do a quick one.”_ _

__Shiro winces as the elevator jerks to a stop. “Yes, please.”_ _

__The soft sound Shiro makes when he crosses the threshold to their apartment makes Keith’s heart squeeze. He loves that this space is theirs, that they’ve made it their own. Photos of the Milky Way hang over an L-shaped couch that takes up most of the living room, facing a TV with Shiro’s video game consoles underneath. Stacks of medical textbooks, fantasy novels, and sketchbooks line the bookshelf under the window. It’s lived-in and comfortable. Keith’s never loved a place more in his entire life. “We’re home.” Shiro slips his arm into the crook of Keith’s elbow, letting him lead the way towards the bedroom._ _

__He settles Shiro on the edge of the bed, letting him catch his breath. Pill bottles rattle as Keith digs them out of the bag. “All right. We’ve got a tiny supply of narcotics, some extra-strength Tylenol, your antibiotics, and a few anti-nausea pills in case you need them. Oh, and some laxatives in case the narcotics back you up.”_ _

__Shiro frowns. “They already gave me something for that in the hospital. It was not a good time.”_ _

__“Poor thing. You’ve had a rough few days.” Keith takes the hem of Shiro’s shirt, pulling it over his head. “Let’s get you nice and clean. You always feel better after a shower.”_ _

__Shiro groans, wincing as he stands up. “We have to be really careful with the wound site.”_ _

__“I know, love. I will be.” He keeps a hand on Shiro’s back as he follows him into their bathroom and laughs a little when Shiro immediately goes to brush his teeth with his fancy electric model on the sink. Shiro’s mouth is full of toothpaste foam and he can’t respond, so Keith busies himself by removing the tape and gauze from Shiro’s elbow. “Oh, my God. Look at this mess.” The crook of his arm is purple and bruised from multiple sticks. At least the IV site in his hand doesn’t look so awful._ _

__Shiro spits in the sink. “Yeah, not great.”_ _

__Keith looks a little more closely at Shiro’s wound, which is covered with steri-strips. “The incision looks good. It’s healing well.”_ _

__In the mirror, Shiro meets Keith’s gaze. “I thought it was going to be smaller.”_ _

__“It saved your life.” Keith wraps his arms around Shiro from behind, his palms pressed against Shiro’s chest. “And it’ll fade.”_ _

__“I know.” Shiro looks exhausted, gray circles smudging under his eyes. But it’s not just his lack of sleep from being woken up at all hours by well-meaning staff, there’s something else there, too._ _

__He looks a little sad._ _

__Keith kisses the nape of Shiro’s neck. “You know, I was thinking about Jiro.”_ _

__A little smile catches the side of Shiro’s mouth. “You were?”_ _

__Keith strokes his fingertips down Shiro’s chest, over the faded, silver scars over his ribs. “And how he fights for justice and to take care of his party, and he’s got these battle scars, but he wears them with pride. It just reminded me so much of you.”_ _

__Shiro ducks his chin. “An appendectomy isn’t a battle wound.”_ _

__“Why not? It’s proof that you’re brave and that you survived.” Keith can feel the steady thump of Shiro’s heart under his hand. “And you know what? Someday you’ll treat a kid or a teenager and they’ll be freaked out of their minds to have their appendix out and you’ll be able to say, I had that surgery. I made it through. You’re going to help other people be brave.” He turns Shiro around to face him. “You help me be brave all the time.” Pushing up on his toes, he kisses him, light on the lips. “My minty fresh paladin.”_ _

__Shiro’s expression is soft. “I help you be brave?”_ _

__“Of course you do. All the time.” He reaches inside his shirt and pulls out Shiro’s pendant, undoing the clasp behind his head before putting it around Shiro’s neck. It falls a little under Shiro’s collarbone, the metal glinting under the low lights. Keith smooths his fingers over the metal, tracing the EKG line. It’s good to see it back on Shiro, to know he kept it safe for him. “When I was younger, I didn’t think I was cut out for love. I mean, I didn’t think anyone would ever fall in love with me. I didn’t know it was possible to feel the way I do about you. You completely rewrote my life, baby.”_ _

___“Keith.”_ Shiro leans forward, kissing him. It’s not heated or desperate at all; it’s delicate and soft, a kiss for comfort. Keith lets Shiro lead, lets him take whatever he wants. “You rewrote my life, too.”_ _

__Keith kisses the tip of Shiro’s nose. “Love? You’re shaking a bit. Let me help you out of those pants, all right? Just hold on to my shoulders.” He eases Shiro’s joggers off and then his boxers, which the brochures had recommended to not press over his wound. “There you go.” Keith pulls off his own shirt and kicks off his track pants, stripping down before he turns on the water, making sure it’s warm but not scalding hot. “I’m going to get in with you, all right? All you need to do is stand there and that’s it.”_ _

__He helps Shiro into the tub and maneuvers him under the spray. “Too warm?”_ _

__Shiro closes his eyes, tipping back his head. “Just right.”_ _

__“Good.” He grabs a clean washcloth and slips in next to Shiro, putting Shiro’s lemongrass body wash on the cloth. “Just breathe and let me know if anything hurts.”_ _

__He drags the washcloth across Shiro’s shoulders and back, following the curve of his spine and the lines of his muscles. “God, Shiro,” he mutters as he lifts Shiro’s arms and cleans under them._ _

__“What?”_ _

__“You’re just so stacked. I know we’ve been together for years and this should be obvious given the number of times I’ve said it but fuck, you’re hot.” Keith laughs a little as he washes over Shiro’s ass, cleaning along the cleft and under his cheeks before he starts on his thighs. “So strong and pretty.”_ _

__Shiro’s got a hand against the wall to steady himself. “I don’t feel very strong right now.”_ _

__Keith pauses from washing Shiro’s calves. “You all right? Not lightheaded?”_ _

__“No. Just tired.”_ _

__“We’ll make this quick. Just hold on.” Keith starts to work on Shiro’s front, getting a clean washcloth and the special hospital wash, using it to lightly cleanse Shiro’s wound. He winces but doesn’t make a sound. Shiro’s chest and abdomen follow, and then Keith gently washes along his crotch, smoothing over his soft dick and balls. There’s something precious about how Shiro trusts him, how he exposes his most vulnerable self to Keith and doesn’t hide. “You’re doing so well. Just need to wash your hair and you’ll be all set.”_ _

__Shiro’s favorite shampoo smells like some kind of herbal wood concoction. Keith loves it; the scent always reminds him of Shiro. “Just tip your head back for me a little. There we go.” He massages his fingertips along Shiro’s scalp, careful not to get the suds in his ears. His ears are a little big, but they suit him so perfectly that Keith can’t imagine him looking any other way. “Do you think maybe when I get you dried off that you might try a little toast?”_ _

__Shiro considers this for a minute. “Maybe.”_ _

__“I can make you some tea, if you want, to go with it.”_ _

__Shiro shakes his head as Keith rinses out the shampoo and starts the conditioner. “I think just water.”_ _

__“Juice? You could use the calories.”_ _

__“Do we have white grape?”_ _

__Keith grins as he rakes his fingers gently through Shiro’s hair, tipping it back under the spray to wash out the conditioner. He is particular about a lot of things, grape juice being one. “I went to the store and bought some just for you. In the little boxes, too.”_ _

__Shiro lets out a soft whine. “I love you so much.”_ _

__“I love you, too.” He leans into Shiro’s chest and takes a sniff. “Now that is the Shiro smell I’ve been missing. You feel better?”_ _

__“Yeah. Think I need to sit down, though.”_ _

__“All right, big boy.” He eases Shiro onto the edge of the tub, wrapping him in towels. “Rest for a minute. Do you want to be on the couch or would you prefer the bed?”_ _

__Shiro’s head slumps onto Keith’s shoulder. “Bed.”_ _

__“We can do that.” He towel-dries Shiro’s hair, finger combing his damp forelock, and then pats the rest of him dry. “We’ll get you some comfy pajamas and get you settled.”_ _

__Shiro’s fingers emerge from the towels to slide into Keith’s hand. “Will you lay down with me?”_ _

__“Sure, if you want.”_ _

__“I want.” Shiro’s voice is rough, like he’s been singing karaoke all night, which, on a few memorable occasions in med school, he was known to do._ _

__He helps Shiro to his feet, steadying him, and walks slowly beside him towards the bed. He yanks on a pair of clean gym shorts before retrieving Shiro’s pajamas. “I put on fresh sheets. Your favorites, the super soft ones that aren’t really a color anymore.” Shiro gives a tired smile as Keith pulls a t-shirt over his head and slides a faded, loose pair of Star Wars boxers onto Shiro’s legs, carefully maneuvering them into place. “I think these are the best option for now. They shouldn’t bother your wound at all.”_ _

__“And they’re Star Wars.”_ _

__“That too.”_ _

__“Oh, that reminds me. I ordered another one of that hoodie you loved, the one that got sliced in half by the EMTs. It’ll be here in a few days.”_ _

__“What?” Shiro stares at him, wide-eyed. “You did?”_ _

__“I know it was your favorite. Luckily it was still in stock.”_ _

__“You’re my favorite.” Shiro kisses the back of his hand. He tries to move back on the bed, but he grunts in pain as he grips Keith’s hand tight for support before he reaches for his belly pillow from the hospital. “Oh, my God.” His breathing is fast as his chin tips up towards the ceiling. “I feel like I’ll never move again.”_ _

__Keith smooths his hand over Shiro’s forehead. “I know it hurts.” He picks up the orange prescription bottle, giving it a little shake. “So here’s your choice. You’re due for meds soon. If I was your doctor, which I’m not per the American Medical Association, I’d say use the big stuff for tonight so you can sleep. But, I’ve met you and your stoicism, so we’ve got the OTC shit too if you want to suffer.”_ _

__Shiro lets out a small, quiet laugh. “Would it shock you if I said I wanted the real thing?”_ _

__“Look who’s full of surprises.” Keith tosses the prescription bottle high up into the air and catches it effortlessly._ _

__Shiro groans. “More like sutures.”_ _

__“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” He put Shiro’s phone in close reach on the bed. “Text the group chat and let them know you’re home, yeah?”_ _

__He goes out to the kitchen, unwrapping the gorgeous loaf of honey wheat bread that Hunk left that morning and slicing a few thick pieces. Growing up, he moved around too much to really have a group of friends, and in college, he had his team, but it wasn’t the same. What he has now is _people_. People who have his back, who cover for him, who sneak him into galleries and bake him bread, whose own hands stitched Shiro’s body back together. They told them back in the early days of med school that if they didn’t find a support system, find people that would lift them up when times were hard, they’d never make it. Keith rubs the back of his neck. They haven’t made it yet, but they’re a lot closer now. _ _

__Partly, it’s them. Their strange collection of friends. But mostly it’s Shiro, who’s made every step of the journey a place that Keith wants to be._ _

__He toasts Shiro’s bread but doesn’t wait for his own, shoving chunks of buttered goodness into his mouth. He’s starving. He cuts himself two more slices, wolfing them down while he grabs a couple of juice boxes from the fridge. Shiro can’t stand crumbs in bed and Keith doesn’t give a shit, so they’ve compromised with metal trays perfect for snacking. When he gets back into the bedroom, Shiro’s eyes are closed, but they flicker open when Keith sets up the tray. “All right. White grape, served in the most elegant of boxes, and barely toasted bread, just the way you like it.”_ _

__“I love you.” Shiro scootches up a little, wincing as he does so, and Keith hands him his medications._ _

__“Love you, too.” He kisses Shiro’s temple and then climbs in on the other side of the bed, holding up his juice box. “A toast.”_ _

__Shiro grins. “You’re cute.”  
Keith pokes the tiny straw into the box. “Here’s to my sweetheart, who is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in a hospital gown. May you heal really, really fast.” A faint blush rises on Shiro’s cheeks as they tap their boxes together and take tiny sips through ridiculously small straws. _ _

__“It’s going to be a long seven days,” Shiro says, frowning before he takes a bite of toast._ _

__Flopping down beside him, Keith nudges Shiro’s calf with his foot. “You can’t possibly be thinking about sex.”_ _

__“I mean, not today.”_ _

__Keith narrows his eyes at him. “But you’re not _not_ thinking about it.”_ _

__“You’re really fucking hot. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t devoid of any sexual thoughts where you are concerned.” He presses his hand over his belly pillow. “But I don’t think steri-strips and wounds really set the mood much.”_ _

__“You know, I went quite while without sex before you. I’m pretty sure a week or two will be fine.” Keith reaches out and gently squeezes his forearm. “Honestly all I want is to make sure you’re okay. You had a rough few days.”_ _

__“I know they weren’t easy on you, either.” He finishes a slice of toast. “This was really good.”_ _

“Our resident baker Hunk made it.” Keith snorts. “ _Resident_ baker. That one was just for you.” 

____

____

____Shiro finger-guns him and grins. “That was good.”_ _ _ _

____“What can I say? Living with you has upped my pun game.”_ _ _ _

____Keith’s relieved that Shiro’s able to finish the toast and juice. He hasn’t had much to eat since even before the surgery and he knows how Shiro gets when he’s food-deprived. He clears away the tray, putting a metal water bottle by Shiro’s bedside for easy reach if he gets thirsty later. “Glad to see you were hungry.”_ _ _ _

____Shiro settles down on the pillow, resting on his back. “I surprised myself.”_ _ _ _

____“Maybe when you wake up again we can try for some soup? Or a little rice?”_ _ _ _

____“Maybe.”_ _ _ _

____After turning down the lights, putting on the moon lamp, and making sure the thermostat’s set, he slips back into bed. Immediately, Shiro inches closer to him. “You cold, love?”_ _ _ _

____“No.”_ _ _ _

____He expects Shiro to look relaxed, or at least a bit more so now that he’s got the meds going, but his expression is tight, his muscles tense. Keith turns on his side to face Shiro, running his fingers lightly over Shiro’s arm, avoiding the bruises from the blood draws. “What’s wrong?”_ _ _ _

____“I’m just,” Shiro starts, letting out a soft breath. “I just don’t feel like me. I hate feeling so, you know, weak. Like a package with a big, red fragile sticker slapped on the side.”_ _ _ _

____Keith smooths the hair off Shiro’s forehead, tracing over his furrowed eyebrow. “It sucks to feel like that. I know it’s hard for you. You like to be the one swooping in and taking care of the world. It’s not easy the other way around.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s not.”_ _ _ _

____“Also, just because you don’t complain about pain doesn’t mean you don’t feel it.”_ _ _ _

____Shiro shuts his eyes. “Sometimes I forget how well you know me.”_ _ _ _

____“I do know you.” Keith leans over, kissing the corner of his mouth. “This is cheating, but I saw your watch give a high heart rate notification when you were getting out of the shower. There’s no way you’d get that unless you were hurting.”_ _ _ _

____“My heart betrays me, huh?”_ _ _ _

____“It does give you away sometimes.” Keith positions himself next to Shiro, lining himself up so Shiro can get closer. “C’mere. Listen to mine. It’ll help you relax.” It’s not easy with Shiro lying on his back, but Keith manages to get his chest close enough for Shiro to rest his ear against him. “There you go.”_ _ _ _

____He’s quiet, trying to steady his breaths so that his heartbeat won’t stray too much from a calm rhythm. Shiro closes his eyes as he listens, the tense lines of his body finally softening. “I missed this. Hard to sleep without it.”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah, I know the feeling.”_ _ _ _

____Shiro taps a finger on Keith’s arm in time with Keith’s pulse. “It’s weird that yours is slower than mine.”_ _ _ _

____Keith chuckles. “Not for long. Once your meds really hit, that won’t be true. I heard a nursing student freaking out about your bradycardia in the hallway and I had to tell her that it was normal for you.”_ _ _ _

____Shiro lets out a long exhale, his belly sinking with his breath. “I think the meds are starting to work. My head feels kinda fuzzy.”_ _ _ _

____“Right now, a fuzzy head is good.” Keith kisses his temple. “Rest is the best thing.”_ _ _ _

____Shiro’s fingers fumble against Keith’s bare chest. “Can you,” he asks, “kiss me for real?”_ _ _ _

____“God, you’re sweet.” Keith moves, pushing himself up so he can lean over Shiro and press a gentle kiss to his mouth. He tastes a little like grape juice. The familiarity and comfort of Shiro’s lips makes Keith melt. They’re warm and inviting and the only place Keith wants to be._ _ _ _

____Shiro touches his tongue to his bottom lip. “Maybe a little more real?”_ _ _ _

____A little zing jolts through Keith’s bloodstream at the request. He cups Shiro’s cheek, going in for another kiss, this time pressing past Shiro’s lips and into his mouth, savoring the heat. It’s not a filthy kiss, and even if it was, it wasn’t as if they could act on it. It’s just deep, like the kind of kiss Keith never wants to end, where it’s just their mingled warmth and breath, fingers seeking purchase against skin and over thrumming pulses. He loves kissing Shiro. He has since their first one on the couch with the failing springs in their old apartment. He’s kissed him thousands of times since, but every time it makes him think the same refrain: safe, love, home._ _ _ _

____When they finally separate, foreheads resting against each other, Keith gives a laugh. “Real enough?”_ _ _ _

____“Yeah. Perfect.” Shiro sighs. “I don’t like going days without kissing you.”_ _ _ _

____“That makes two of us.” Keith slides back down, curling himself around Shiro._ _ _ _

____Shiro lets out a tired laugh. “Yay, little spoon.”_ _ _ _

____“The best spoon.” He adjusts his arm to make sure there’s no undue pressure anywhere on Shiro’s chest. “You think you can sleep?”_ _ _ _

____It takes Shiro a long moment to answer. “Yeah.”_ _ _ _

____“I’ll be here, okay? Don’t worry about waking me up. Don’t try to get out of bed alone, yeah? I don’t want you to fall.”_ _ _ _

____“Okay.” He tips his head towards Keith on his pillow. “Okay.”_ _ _ _

____He’s so precious that Keith’s heart can barely take it. “Shh, baby. Just sleep. Love you.”_ _ _ _

____After a few minutes, Shiro’s breath evens out, dropping into a slow, easy rhythm. His muscles give up their hold, soft in Keith’s arms. A deep wash of relief slips over him. He just wants Shiro to be able to rest, for the pain to ebb. It’s hard to believe only a few days ago they were curled up in this same spot, and neither of them had any idea an ambulance and emergency surgery were coming. He grips Shiro a little tighter. Shiro’s okay, he reminds himself. He’s healthy. He’s strong. He’s going to heal and he’ll be back on his feet soon. Keith closes his eyes for a moment, just letting the gratitude rise up in him. This is why he wants to be a doctor. So someone else can feel the way he feels right now, so that someone else can keep hearing the soft breaths of their loved one next to them, to make stupid pun jokes with them, to keep loving them._ _ _ _

____It’s the whole point._ _ _ _

____When he’s sure, doubly sure, that Shiro is fully, deeply asleep, Keith reaches for his phone. He’s not remotely ready to sleep himself and he’s behind on the lecture notes from yesterday. He wants to stay ahead of everything in case Shiro needs help getting caught up, although knowing Shiro he probably tried to do some of the work from his hospital bed. Before he starts, he reaches out, taking Shiro’s wrist between his fingers, finding the pulse under the skin. He counts. Sixty-two beats, strong, steady. Good._ _ _ _

____Tomorrow he has another long shift, but tonight, he gets to watch over his favorite person on earth, the best man he’s ever known, the love of his life. He probably won’t sleep much, but it’s worth it. Under the glow of his phone screen and his ICU orientation notes, he settles in for the night with Shiro’s warm body beside him._ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I'm on tw [@] starlitruns ✨


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